Hello, My Name is Your TV
by Foopadoop
Summary: He had always loved his old television set. It provided a much need escape from the harsh plotline of reality. Inspired by the song Hello, My Name is Your TV by the band Ludo.


He loved his old television set.

It wasn't anything fancy, just one of those large box TVs with the large buttons lined up in a row at the bottom. He had gotten it for Christmas when he was eight, and here it stayed in his bedroom, sitting upon it's place on his clunky television cabinet that was just as old.

Kyle had grown to think of it as a friend. He had shared many memories with the old set, the scatter of ancient VHS tapes and slightly scratched DVDs amongst the shelves was proof of this. Together they had solved many difficult crimes, cried silent tears with unjustful deaths, shouted at the bad guys, cheered and laughed and screamed all the same. In the light of it's barred and flickering colors he had fallen asleep numerous times, the dull static underlaying the soft voices of his favorite characters a strange lullaby to him. It was comforting to the Jewish teen. It was an escape from the unending whirl that was his life back in reality.

Reality wasn't as comforting. The characters were harsh and cold, the colors off and bland, the plot growing lost admist the drama and overwhelming number of antagonists that plagued him. And as the years progressed, it just seemed to grow worse.

He had become a side character in his own story. In the cliche setting of the sophomore classrooms of high school, the stereotypes were like mere whispers in comparisson to the screams and yells emitting from the nightmare that was his school life.

To one side is the popular boy. A jock who excels at sports, complete with muscular body, dreamy deep blue eyes and shaggy black hair the girls fall for, and a dazzling contagious smile. In the background, behind his amazing life and pretty girlfriend, a friendship forgotten and left in the dust. Sure, he'd occasionally send a cheery welcome to his supposed "Super Best Friend," and in his mind they probably were still friends. Apparently being socially acceptable and keeping your needy girlfriend happy was more important than keeping up the relationship you so suddenly forgot you had with your friend of twelve years, though.

Across the hall is the other friend, apparent school slut. Sure, he had the pretty boy looks and badboy attitude that the chicks dug; but being known to accept any living thing that walked his path, male or female, was not usually taken kindly to. The poor, white-trash background with trashy parents didn't help either. But with that dazzling smile and "I don't give a shit" way of thinking, what's not to love? The guy tries to keep up the friendship, but why ruin an already sinking social status by continuing to be friends with someone like Kyle?

The shady character hanging around the group of teens in the back, the vile and bitter main antagonist. Truth to be told, he wasn't even sure if he could call him that anymore. Was it wrong to wish that for at least one day, just /one/ day, the fatass would follow him around and taunt him like he used to? Kyle preferred the brunette's verbal bullying to the physical and emotional of other's. Hell, he'd be happy to hear that fucking racial slur or his cracks on his religion. At least he'd be remembered...

The boy had given up trying to rekindle the old connections. His three "friends" still kept up their relations with the each other, it was just when it came to Kyle himself it seemed he'd been wiped from their memories. If only it could be that way with his schoolmates. Since the beginning of freshman year, it was as if the bullies had handpicked him from everyone else to target any pent up anger or hatred. As soon as the others began to grow distant, they zoned in like hungry vultures, picking him apart piece by piece and feeding on his misery. Rescue from Stan or Kenny soon ceased, consumed by their own social lives. Or maybe the plot became too complicated for them and they gave up trying to help and keep up. He didn't blame them.

By the end of each day, he'd tune out the clutter and mess of this story the rest called life; he ignored the cliche and terrible characters, blot out the dull colors and go home, back to the welcoming flickers and familiar faces that appeared on his television.

He had learned to not pay as much attention to the "home life" story either; it was just as bad and tacky as the "school life"one was. The woman playing the mother figure was loud, overbearing. At one point she might have cared for him- now it was all about the grades and the future /she/ wanted for him. All her undivided attention on that single cause, at lest, when it wasn't focused on screaming at his dad. Enter father, great lawyer now a drunk mess. He was just glad he could send Ike to friend's houses so he wouldn't have to deal with the shitstorm he faced day by day. No, all he had to do was go upstairs to his room, lock his door, and crank up the volume as he drowned out the shouts and sneers of his parents as he became enthralled in his various movies and storylines to escape it all.

This day had been especially bad. The trips in the hall and the snide jeers behind his back dug into him like daggers aimed to maim. Fogged breath burst into the air like steam engines as the jackals laughed and kicked him, painting his pale body various shades of blues and purples while a ruby red dotted the frosted lot underneath him. Cries and pleading fell upon deaf ears, and the assholes only stopped when they thought they heard someone approaching. Of course, it was only the footfalls of a stray mutt as it scrounged for food. Though it growled and backed away when he managed to stumble to his feet, Kyle sent it a small smile of gratitude, to which the mongrel scampered off with it's tail between it's legs. A dreary sigh left his lips and he limped home, unable to stop the bombardment of thoughts that plagued his mind.

Angry screaming welcomed him home. As always, he was dead to it all. Like a mindless zombie, he slumped upstairs to his room without so much a glance to his fighting parents.

He closed and locked his door, letting his bag drop heavily to the floor with a thud before shuffling painfully to the out-of-date TV set. The screen flashed on, lighting up the dim room with it's familiar glow. The ginger tentivly placed a disk labeled "Kyle's Camera Footage" in the player and let it play while he stood and drew the curtains shut. Though his ribs ached and each cut and bruise demanded to be treated, he only grabbed his flannel quilt and wrapped it around himself as he sat on the floor in front of the beat up set.

"Dude, you're hogging all the kills! Let me get a few!"

"No way man! It's my turn! Besides, you always get the highest score."

"Na-uh!"

On the screen, the image of two boys around nine and ten playfully shoving each other while two others sat watching nearby came to view as the camera person crept up behind them. A larger boy snuck closer while the two tussled on the floor and snatched up a controller to the system they were playing, tossing the remaining on to a boy bundled up in a ratty orange parka.

"While you two fags grope each other, me an Kinneh are gonna play."

The person filming, who turned out to be Randy, chuckled softly as the younger versions of him and Stan broke apart, the smaller Kyle sending a retort toward the younger Cartman while Kenny snickered from his spot.

After a few minutes the scene flickered and changed, now the setting taking place at an old pizza play place. Kids chased each other while clutching at tickets that trailed behind them like streamers as they ran. An eleven year old Kyle ran up to his mother, who was holding the camera, eagerly accepting the device from her as he played with the settings. A boy with a nasally tone (if he remembered correctly, his name was Craig) stood by him while he did so, helping him learn the basics before the scene began to shake as he thudded off to film his friends. Stan joked with him while Kenny and Cartman made weird faces in the background in front of the games, the camera shaking as he laughed alongside his friends.

Different videos played one by one in this never ending montage of memories: the four of them hanging out at Shakey's while Wendy filmed them secretly with Kyle's camcorder, a sixth grade field trip to New Orleans with the boys fooling around at the different attractions and hotel, an eight year old Ike giggling as he was chased by a thirteen year old Kyle and Kenny while Stan chuckled in amusement behind the lens. Scene after scene, memory after memory...

The Jewish teen choked up slightly, longingly gazing at the happy family and friends depicted on the flickering screen. They had been so happy back then, so close. No yelling or drunk parents, no overwhelming responsibilities, no asshole bullies taunting and shouting at him behind his back. He had his friends, a loving mother and father, and an altogether great life. He clutched at the warm blanket, staring blankly at the colorful images of his friends dragging him off through Disneyland while he tried to capture it all on video. The euphoria he had felt three years ago was nowhere to be found now.

His hands shook as he shrugged off his blanket and reached for his phone, trying to ignore the drunken slur of words that rose from downstairs. Why couldn't they just stop fighting, for just /one/ fucking night, they could at least try. His eyes turned to the first drawer of his dresser, the empty feeling he felt almost overwhelming him.

The ginger managed to tear his sight away from the beckoning furniture and scrolled through his phone until he found a number he hadn't called in two years. The sound of glass shattering along with more shouting echoed harshly in his ears and he winced as he pressed the dial button.

"...Hello?"

Breath slightly shuddered, he kept his eyes glued to the TV, which was now showing a video of the four of them hanging out at the beach in California.

"Uh, hey dude. I-it's Kyle."

"Oh, hey dude! What's up?"

It was as if they had talked to each other at lunch that day. This irked the teen, but he tried to stay optimistic.

"Well, uh, I was wondering if maybe you'd like to hang out tonight or something," he suggested awkwardly, watching as the TV Stan and Kyle began to play fight each other with with plastic swords at the Pirates gift shop. "Its been awhile since we last met up."

His reply was a small groan. "Man, I'm sorry. I can't tonight. Wendy and I are on a date; we're heading to the movies right now," came the apology, and the ginger deflated in disappointment. "Maybe another time?"

"Yeah... I understand," he replied emptily, averting his eyes from the happy scene on screen.

"Great!" Stan sounded relieved, oblivious as ever to anyone's feelings. "Maybe we can try next week or something. I'll see you at school though, so there's that, at least."

"Mmm..."

There was some background talking before the voice on the other end piped back up.

"Oh yeah, and Kyle?"

He perked back up. "Yeah man?" He asked eagerly.

Stan sounded sheepish as he asked, "You don't happen to have Garrion's study guide, do you? I kinda forgot to do mine."

He didn't really care. Kyle was just another tool to help him through school. He answered in a flat monotone, standing and turning away from the television as he opened his top drawer. Stan sounded a little crestfallen as he answered back.

"Oh well. It was worth a shot."

How ironic, came the thought as Kyle pulled out the small pistol he had taken from his dad's small hunting cabinet.

"Well, I gotta go. I'll see you at school, Kay dude?"

Another crash resounded downstairs and his mother's shrill screaming rose above the sound of laughter from the past that came from his TV.

Stan paused. "Kyle? Everything okay over there?"

"Bye Stan," he answered flatly before hanging up and letting his phone slip from his hand and to the floor.

He loved his television. It seemed it was his only friend. It fed him numerous ads and movie stars, been through many worlds together. He could see dreamy California with all the pretty people, watch as bad guys met their destinies and good guys get the girl by the shimmering sea. Watch the good times of four Colorado boys as they laughed and joked and fought and stayed together like friends should. Unlike outside. The story was much too long, the plot liberated and horrible, the lighting off and dull. The characters were harsh and lied all the time, and nothing was done once everything went dark.

The circular barrel of the weapon was cold and soothing against his tongue and lips. The happy scene of four teenagers begin to warp, the screen becoming snowy and filled with static as the video ended and the player turned off.

That story had ended.

Here, see the protagonist. Bruised, beaten, and hollow. He is defeated.

Trigger is pulled.

Now this story has ended as well.

The household falls silent; everything is quiet except the soothing white noise from an old and out of date television, its light piercing through the dark and the screen glowing white with speckled red.


End file.
